


The fault in our families

by Ambrose, Astray



Series: SMAUG shenanigans [2]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, later mention of past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrose/pseuds/Ambrose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Romeo can't take his eyes off Rosaline, steps have to be taken. And what follows wasn't in anyone's plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Of course I love her! But does she have to be so frigid? I mean...”

“Please shut up?” It escaped him. He'd usually answer with a jab or make fun of the silly bugger, but it had been over a week – Romeo's crushes were never lasted that much longer, that one was a record, and although he'd have been loath to admit it, he'd ran out of clever retorts.

“Mercutio!”

“What, Benny? I'm not the one calling Rosaline the Queen of Ice and saying it's the lady's fault if Romeo's being a pain in the ass! And she's my friend, remember?”

“Still, she is...” Romeo started.

“Didn't I just tell you to shut your mouth?”

This time Romeo didn't voice any complaints; instead showing his annoyance by making faces at Mercutio. Benvolio barely contained a laugh.

“Don't mock me!” Romeo whined, like the child he was and always would be. Mercutio was quite positive he would grow old, but he certainly would never grow up. Which was a very odd thing for him to think, considering... Well, he and Rosaline might have grown apart, they were still friends somehow; no matter how much he usually enjoyed making fun of people, he would not let Romeo mock her that way a second longer. Besides, there wasn't even anything _funny_ in Romeo's words. _Puppy's all vexed and trying to bite, now_ , he couldn't help thinking.

“But he's right, you know”, Ben answered, to both his and Romeo's surprise. “Not about you being a pain in the rear, though you can be _quite_ annoying.” Here went Ben's proverbial kindness... “But you should certainly not blame her if she doesn't want you – maybe you're just not her type.”

“I _have_ to be”, Romeo insisted, running a hand through his hair. _Walking cliché._ Well, that probably made up for Mercutio being a walking disaster. Still, he couldn't decide whether Romeo was acting or really serious, although he was probably too dumb to fake such stupidity. Oh well, he'd just have to speak slower. It was not so much that he disliked Romeo, he honestly considered him a friend... but this habit he had, of falling in love with a new girl each week was really getting on Mercutio's nerves.

“Look, maybe you're just too thick to realize this, but trust my experience: not all women are distant because they're playing hard to get; sometimes they just want to be left alone.”

“You just don't understand. I _love_ her. We're made for one another!”

“Yeah, right – she just doesn't know it yet!”

“Exactly!”

“I give up on you”, Mercutio sighed. He really hoped Romeo would stop, and soon. Actually, knowing Rosaline, he was surprised she did not do anything to that purpose yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosaline has a plan to get rid of Romeo: get him to meet someone else. She asks for Benvolio's help, as he is the only one capable of convincing Romeo to do anything or so.

“Hey, Benvolio! Wait!”

Benvolio turned around and looked at the girl who almost ran to catch up with him.

“Talking to a Montague, are we? Hell's going to freeze over!”

“Only if it's exothermic.”, Rosaline said flatly. She shrugged. “Besides, Montagues started to talk to me first.”

“I don't remember talking to you.” He was in no mind to talk to her – he already had had enough of Romeo's silliness , there was no way he would bother with the girlfriend, never mind what Mercutio would say.

“What are you, six?” Her exasperation was showing, and it mirrored his own. He probably could listen a bit more to whatever she has to say.

“I'm no more happy than you are about this business with Romeo,” she went on. “So I was thinking... I'm throwing a party tomorrow so Romeo can meet some of my... fair cousins, shall we say, and give me a breather. I can't possibly ask him myself, though, or he'll get his hopes up and that'll ruin the whole purpose. However, if you're the one to bring it up, he'd probably follow anyway. Could you do that?”

Well, _that_ was unexpected. Romeo had made a damned fuss about his so-called love for that girl, and how she loved him too; how she wouldn't just say it out loud, but indeed loved him with all her heart, she a Capulet! But Benvolio should have learned long ago not to trust his cousin in the matter of women. In fact, he now felt like it was a rerun of Pepe le Pew and Romeo was in the eponymous role, with Rosaline as the poor cat trying to escape. On a sidenote, Mercutio should never be left with a remote control, considering his awful taste in cartoons. But back to the topic at hand – he was curious, after all. 

“Well, I don't know. What's in it for me?” _And now you sound just like Mercutio..._

People started to pour out of an amphitheatre. He let Rosaline inside an empty room – dragged her was more like it; and shut the door behind them. No way he'd let the whole campus see them together. Although he was not certain if it was because of his own reputation, or because he knew how Romeo could get whenever a girl he liked talk to someone else.

“You mean besides an evening with beautiful girls?”

“Yeah, right, Capulet girls,” he sighed. He scolded himself. Naturally, she'd assume it was all he was ever interested in, if he was anything like his cousin. But why did he have to prove her right? Or why did he feel bad for doing just that?

“How's that relevant? You won't marry them anyway, who cares what our families think? They won't even know!”

She wasn't at all as he'd pictured her. Mostly because Romeo's crushes rarely had a brain. Although, to be fair, Romeo rarely picked up girls at University.

“Fine,” he smiled. “But I'll have to bring Mercutio too, otherwise it'll look suspicious” He wondered for a second why she didn't ask him directly, seeing as they were friends, of sorts. “And you'd better get him his share of _fair cousins_ , otherwise he'll be disappointed – and you don't want Mercutio to ruin your party, especially if you like your furniture.” And Benvolio wanted to get these words back because for some reason, he had an ominous feeling about it. Let's hope that Tybalt was the only murderous cousin, otherwise the furniture would not survive anyway.

“Then we have a deal.” She grinned, and the ominous feeling turned into the sense of foreboding that usually precedes tragedies.

She sat on the nearest chair and started writing. “I'll give you the address.”

“Don't bother, I know where you live.” _Way to sound like a stalker, Benvolio Montague. Keep it up and you'll leave Romeo in the dust!_

She gave him the weirdest look, halfway between creeped-out and puzzled. Benvolio shrugged. “Romeo's my cousin, remember? And he likes to listen to himself talk. Especially when he has an audience, no matter how reluctant.”

“Oh. I see. Well, you'll need this anyway: it's not at my house, it'd be too obvious. And I don't want him there. _Ever_.” She handed him the paper. “Oh, and I forgot to mention: it's a fancy dress party. Venetian masquerade.”

“Are you trying to trick us into this? Because if you are and we're the only ones to show up dressed up, you better not be around either when the guys find out. Although Mercutio would probably not mind either way.”

“No, I'm not kidding. Jessica suggested the theme – she's lending me the house too.”

“You mean you're having your party at _Shylock's_?” Nothing could be creepier. Almost. He pictured the old scholar in a Renaissance costume, tights and all. Yuck.

“Oh, don't worry, he won't be there – he's got that History meeting – Law convention – I don't know what – someplace. Anyway, I wanted to stick around but I don't want that idiot – hum, sorry – I don't want Romeo to notice me, so we came up with this idea – Jessica's father is slightly obsessed with Venice, got a whole collection of masks and stuff. And costumes from her mum. So... I trust you can make them dress up?”

“I'll try.” He looked at his watch. “Well, I gotta go. See you there. And I suggest you wait a bit before you leave.”

“So you're not seen with a Capulet. Right.”

He didn't know how to interpret her tone of voice. “Well, you wouldn't want Romeo to see us together, would you?”

 

Finding Mercutio had been easy. Talking to him, however, proved to be more difficult than it seemed. Mostly because the man was pretty much never alone. So the instant he saw his chance, Benvolio seized it and made his way to his friend:

“Great, I was looking for you.”

“The name's Mercutio, Ben. and everyone's always looking for me these days... You're lucky, Romeo just left.”

Benvolio knew that quite well – he'd been waiting for over half an hour for his cousin to leave. One person was enough of a public for Romeo, he would _not_ encourage him.

“Yeah, about that...”

“No no please, for fuck's sake, I don't want to hear about him! The guy's not madly in love, he's just downright mad! Madness is in love with him!”

Mercutio was rarely that angry at anyone – Tybalt notwithstanding – and Ben wondered for how long Romeo had been bothering his friend before he saw them. He hoped Rosaline's plan would work, because he wasn't sure either of them could bear their friend's babbling nonsense much longer.

“And that's coming from you... Anyway, I heard Jessica is throwing a party tomorrow night, we could all use some distraction.”

“Jessica... Nice girl, a friend of Rosa's, right?”

“... And Shylock's daughter,” Ben snapped.

“Oh. That could be a problem... Unless I was interested in law, which I'm not.”

“And engaged, or about to be, from what I've heard. But there'll be plenty of other people. A few Capulets – and we all know you love them! One in particular.”

“I'd love him dead and would still love his murderer.” Benvolio made a face, and it apparently prompted Mercutio to elaborate: “I'm kidding. Almost. As long as we don't have to listen to Romeo rave all night long, I'm fine with it.”

Ben put on his best pokerface. “There's a condition, though – but I think you'll like it.”

Mercutio gave him a questioning look. “What is it? Shylock is babysitting? No alcohol in the house?”

Ben laughed. “Not _that_ bad. Our dear Law expert will not be at home, and I'm sure there'll be enough alcohol for you to drown in. It's a dress-up party.”

“A WHAT?” Ben would have actually paid someone to take a picture of Mercutio's face at that very moment. The cry of horror was belied by his look – that of a kitten getting a double serving of his favourite catnip-flavoured tuna. He wasn't a theatre major for no reason...

“You heard me quite well, I think. I'd never have thought you'd be so thrilled. There's a theme, though. Venetian carnival, something like that.”

“We _have_ to go, then. I don't care if we're invited or not, we _have to._ ”

“Oh. Okay... Did I miss something? Did you grow a passion for tights overnight?”

“I don't, I guess we just never talked about it. And not tights, please. Just costumes, and masks. Believe it or not, I like to go unnoticed sometimes. Or rather, to be noticed, but as I play a character. I just think, you know, somehow you can only be yourself when you're not. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I think I see what you mean,” Ben answered – all the while thinking _that doesn't even make any sense. Why am I always hanging out with you nutcases again?_ But he knew why. Mercutio, and even Romeo, as silly as he could seem right now, had always been his friends. And, as crazy as they were, they never questioned his decisions or even his sanity – and they'd always been here for him when he needed support. He always had had a special place in his heart for Mercutio, even before his accident, and even if sometimes his friend was hard to follow, it did not matter. To see Mercutio like this, hyper and happy, it was all Benvolio wanted. Obviously, he also loved his cousin dearly. It was pretty much the only reason why he never really pushed Romeo away when the guy wanted to talk about his affection for Rosaline.

 

Convincing Romeo had been... easy. Almost too easy. At the same time, Mercutio was an expert at finding excuses and reasons; and never you mind that each was crazier than the last, it always worked with Romeo. Or rather, Romeo's reasons to refuse were blown away by Mercutio's flippant demeanour. Benvolio wasn't sure _anyone_ could have said anything against his friend's made up stories of glory and youth and and all those ideals, but Romeo, in his current state of mind, was just the guy to fall for it anyway. Mercutio was a really good actor when he wanted to – he'd even convinced him to put on a mask and all. Benvolio knew Mercutio went out of his way to advertise masks – it was a rather touchy subject. Being the Prince's kinsman involved a lot of masquerading. Romeo did not know, of course. Never had Romeo been the one helping Mercutio pick up the pieces afterwards. He certainly didn't even take notice. He was like that, always living in the moment, blissfully thinking everything gravitated around him in the end – he was happy, so everyone must be – right?

Mercutio never really was; even at his best moments he was just an inch away from pain and anger. Only, when he suffered he just seemed crazier than usual to whomever didn't really know him – and that included Romeo, who just laughed it away when Ben tried to talk to him about it. So it just fell to Benvolio to comfort him. Oh, he never felt forced to do it – he cared about Mercutio way too much to stand by, but at the same time, he felt he was not the right person to do so . He was well aware that there was only so much he could do to help his friend – not much – and that pained him. He just hoped that some day, soon, Mercutio would find someone just like him, to confide in without feeling judged at every word. Benvolio did not judge him, and he had made sure Mercutio knew that. However, his friend needed much more than he could give him.

Benvolio hated Romeo for that, for letting his friends down when they needed him most – but then he could see that it wasn't done on purpose: Romeo was just too much of an idealist, and would always think everything was okay as long as himself was. It was the consequence that came with the walls Romeo built around him as a child, to bear the hatred that ran between their families. The problem with this bulletproof optimism was that it prevented Romeo from seeing whenever something was wrong. He couldn't blame him – they all had their ways of coping with that disease that gnawed at them, slowly destroying their lives. Mercutio had his wit, and his game of cat and mouse with Tybalt – though Ben would have been hard-pressed to say who was the mouse and who the cat; Romeo, his naivety, and he... well, he tried to be nice with everyone – to compensate, somehow, for everything his family had tried to have him do.

He was somehow angry at Rosaline for that – though he knew it wasn't exactly her fault if Mercutio had been so gloomy after convincing Romeo – Mercutio's moods were unpredictable at best. But when he arrived at the party she didn't seem to be there, and he almost forgot his anger.

The music, the costumes, the food... they'd set just the right tone, and he had to admit it was fun. Rosaline and Jessica must have spent hours decorating the place – unless Shylock's house usually looked like the Palazzo Ducale, which was not entirely impossible.

 

Some time later this evening, he found himself wandering about the house. Romeo was sunk in a couch, talking to a charming dark-haired Capulet girl in a red and white lace dress. He'd been there for hours now. And Mercutio, well Mercutio was happily cursing Tybalt – turns out that was Rosaline's idea of a fair cousin. But Benvolio had deserved it when he had shamelessly asked her to find someone for his friend. Not saying that Tybalt was not fair in his own right – it was not Benvolio's place to judge, but he wondered if Rosaline had wanted a fight to take place. Although he noticed that both men were actually behaving a lot better than they usually did. Go figure.

He was pouring himself a drink in the kitchen when a girl arrived. She was wearing a Venetian red dress and had long, cascading blonde hair. He'd have sworn he'd never seen her before. Then she took off her mask – turned out it was Rosaline, who was wearing a wig.

“M'lady.” He bowed ironically, and she curtsied.

“I wanted to thank you,” she said. “I couldn't have pulled this off without your help, and Juliet actually seems happy with Romeo's attention.”

She took two glasses from a shelf and handed them to him. He filled them with rum and looked for some pineapple juice, but she'd already gulped hers down. She certainly didn't look as happy as she said she was. Something must have upset her, because she immediately handed her glass to him as soon as he got the juice bottle.

“I hope she can cope with him more than just an evening, because from the way he's talking to her... Anyway, she looks clever – maybe she can help him grow a brain.”

“I wouldn't have dared put it like that, but I'm afraid his skull is too hostile an environment for a brain to ever thrive.” She grabbed the bottle, raised it – and seemed to think better of it because she put it back on the counter. Her expression was stricken, as though she had seen a ghost. It was an expression he was all too familiar with not to ask. Benvolio wondered if it was because of something he said, or because Juliet ended up with Romeo. Truth be told, he was unsure about the whole thing, but if Juliet was anything like her cousins, there was no doubt she could hold her own. Benvolio shook himself – now was not the time. He carefully got closer to Rosaline, speaking a bit more softly, not wanting to spook her or make it worse.

“What are you doing, Rosaline?”

“Drinking. Trying to. Why shouldn't I?”

“Because getting drunk never helps. You'll just get a headache tomorrow, and your problems will still be there. And if you're not lucky, even while drunk you'll still be upset. Believe me, it's not a good idea.” He pushed the bottle farther away, and reached for her hand. _Hell, why do I have to be comforting people all the time?_ But he didn't mind, really. She was nice to everyone too, it was unfair that no one noticed it. 

They heard someone barge in from behind Rosaline, and she quickly freed her hand to put her mask back on.  _Close enough_ , Benvolio thought when he looked up from her. It was Romeo. 

“Hey, Benny! I was looking for you!”

“What a surprise.” He answered flatly. “And please don't call me that – what have you been drinking?” He went to his friend and Rosaline retreated to a corner of the room, where she pretended to be busy looking for something in a cupboard so she could turn her back to them – not that Romeo was in a mind to notice.

“Nothing but love, my friend, from the lips of the sweetest girl there is–”

“Please don't. Look, I don't want to hear about this girl you found, okay? She may be sweet, she may be the love of your life, but I don't know her, I don't want anything to do with this, because tomorrow you'll have forgotten her already.”

“No, Benny, you don't understand... She _is_ the love of my life – dearest Juliet – the light in my night – Forget her? I could not if I wanted to, and I desire no such thing.”

Benvolio felt so tired, he was so fed up with Romeo's bullshit, and suddenly all he wanted was to rub his cousin's face in his stupidity. Anything to shut him up, really.

“Oh. Right. Like you remember yesterday's girl?” He regretted it the second he'd said it.

“Who are you talking about, Benny? There is no one but sweet Juliet – whenever I think of love, her face comes to mind as though I've known her all my life. She's the only one I ever wanted.”

“Is she now?” Benvolio was torn between the urge to slam his head against the wall in despair or to yell at him. He didn't know why he was so angry – it wasn't like him at all. He shouldn't have drunk that much...

“Oh! Oh, you're referring to that Rosaline girl, I guess. Well, you clearly mistook me. She's a no one. You thought I loved her? Like anyone could love that girl... She's a prude. She's not even pretty, and she's vain!”

Benvolio wanted to hit him. He knew Rosaline was behind him and pretending she didn't exist, and it pained him to know that she must feel every single word his cousin said. He had to find something to stop his cousin from saying anything else. Yet Romeo wouldn't let him interrupt, and kept blabbering: “No, Juliet is different, she's lovely and passionate and I love her and she's sweet as a rose, and her eyes shine more than stars will ever do – I guess you can't understand, Benny, you've never loved anyone who loves you back.”

_Oh. Well, thank you, Romeo, you're such a good friend._ It would probably be – marginally – less worse if Romeo did not launch into such lengthy tirades that would make Cyrano pass for a particularly clear and concise fellow. 

“I could talk about her all night! But, anyhow, I came to tell you, Juliet's leaving and I am in no mind to stay when she's not gracing the place with her presence anymore. And Mercutio had a squabble with the Capulet moron once more, and he wants to leave too, so if you don't want to go home on foot...”

“No, I'll stay. Leave.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain. I like to walk. Now leave.” He snapped. “I wouldn't want to keep you away from your daydreams one second more than necessary. Just forget the girl while driving, will you? Or leave the keys to Mercutio.” Not that that would be a much better idea. He pushed Romeo towards the door – Romeo who was so happy that he hadn't noticed something was amiss – Romeo who left the room laughing like the silly 15-year-old boy he was in his head. Benvolio quickly checked that his cousin had really left, closed the door, and turned back to Rosaline who was heading for the living room, trying to avoid him.

“Wait.” He blocked her way. She tried to go around him, and the glasses she was holding tilted dangerously towards the floor. He took them from her, put them down on the counter and took her by the arms. “Are you alright?” She clearly wasn't; he could see tears behind the mask. “You know how wrong he is, don't you?” He took off her mask so he could see her face, but she looked away, freed her hands and tried to get past him. “Stop that, I know you don't want to go there.”

She frowned, and raised her hand, as though to slap him. However, her expression turned into the same one she had when reaching for the bottle the first time, and she simply plopped down on one of the bar stools. She sniffed at one of the glasses, probably considering her options, then put it down, disgusted – although Benvolio would have been hard pressed to say whether it was at the drink or at herself.

“Okay, maybe I deserved it.” he commented. Trying to manhandle people you don't know had never been a good idea. “But Romeo's an ass, and he doesn't know you one bit. What he said was uncalled for, but you should not give him any credit. What he said... it doesn't matter, and there's no point worrying over it, because he's wrong in every possible way.”

“You don't know that.”

“Believe me, I know. I know him, he's my cousin, and to some extent my friend, and over the years I heard him be passionate about things one evening and forget them the next morning. He's like that with people too, and I'm still amazed he can remember my name. You shouldn't take his words to heart, it's bollocks.” He wanted to hug her, to cradle her and ease her pain. It was unfair how the nicest people were always hurt and thought it was their fault.

“You don't know that. You don't know me, he could be right. I guess he is. What kind of person pushes her kid cousin in the arms of the guy she wants to get rid of? But I'm here so you feel guilty, and you try to make up for it.”

She got up; she was leaving this time, and he didn't want her to. Not only because Romeo had hurt her and he felt he should have said something to shut him up. He had to stop her, he had to tell her how awesome she was, how much he admired what she'd done. Without even thinking twice, he reached out for her, and pulled her in a hug. It felt like the right thing to do, until he felt her stiffen. Gods, he had not meant to scare her or anything. He carefully let go, doing his best not to apologise every nanosecond for his stupidity. Not that it placated her: if looks could kill, he would probably be a pile of ashes by then.

“I don't want your pity.”

“It's not.” He spoke very quickly, making a point of looking her in the eyes, as if it would prevent her from storming off. He was acting on borrowed time, there was no way he would mess up now – not when it would be so easy to lose her. “I'm sorry I offended you, it was not my intend. And it was stupid. I would never act out of pity, you are better than that. And just so you know, I might try to be nice with everyone but I just don't hug people out of pity. I am not hitting on you either, or anything. It's just that... even if I don't know you that well, it's obvious you are smart, and kind. Well, not that kind when you arrange for Mercutio and Tybalt to be in the same house, but yes. You are one of the sweetest girls I've ever met. If Romeo can't see that, it's just that he's blind. But even if he is, it doesn't mean everyone is. And I'll repeat it until it sticks: his opinion doesn't matter, because it changes all the time. He runs from one person to another like a pup, and doesn't even see the consequences – he thinks he knows those he meets, but really, it's superficial at best. And besides, he was probably drunk. You deserve much more than that: he's the one who's got a problem, not you. It's his loss. I for one want to know you better – and possibly without all those obnoxious party-goers around.”

She smiled, and seemed to be looking for something to say – only he would never know, because Jessica chose this very moment to fling the door open. There was a lot of noise on the other side, that he hadn't noticed before. She burst into the room and called to Rosaline: “You might wanna come, and quick! Your cousin's about to kill someone!”

“Who? Mercutio?” Ben worried.

“Strangely enough, no. Portia's boyfriend decided to commit suicide, and provoked him.”

Rosaline rushed into the living room, and Benvolio followed. The young Capulet was fighting with Bassanio. And apparently no one was about to stop them. Well, stop Tybalt, because really, Bassanio wasn't in any shape to fight anymore. Rosaline tried to grab Tybalt's shoulder, but he pushed her away – he apparently registered who she was, because he didn't try to hurt her – but she tripped on her dress and fell. She looked okay, but this whole thing had to stop. Benvolio would have to intervene.

He threw himself between the fighters, barely avoided Tybalt's fist; and tried to push him away from Bassanio.

“Get away, Montague,” Tybalt growled. “This is none of your business.” He tried to grab Bassanio by his shirt but Benvolio got in the way. “Get. Away! I won't hesitate to hit you.”

“Then do.” He saw hesitation in Tybalt's eyes. “But whatever you've got against him, you really think he deserves it? Whatever he said, is it really worth your attention?”

“And let him imply I fuck Della Scala? No way in hell!” Rage was burning in his eyes, and Bassanio grumbling “ _he_ fucks you, whore!” didn't help. Tybalt shoved Benvolio against the wall and punched Bassanio in the face.

“Showing off your anger doesn't prove him wrong,” Benvolio shouted. He wasn't sure he could stop him, until Horatio stepped in, and each grabbed one of Tybalt's shoulders while others pulled Bassanio away. Once his adversary was gone he shrugged them off. “Why did you have to stop me?” He was addressing Benvolio, never mind that Horatio had helped too.

Benvolio nodded for Horatio to leave them, and he actually did. Jessica was now getting everyone out. The fight had effectively put an end to the party, and she probably wanted to avoid any more gossip. Anyhow there was enough mess to tidy up already, and it was quite late.

He looked back at Tybalt. “I understand you don't like us Montagues, but that's not reason enough for me to let you kill someone. Bassanio's not a bad guy, most of the time, and besides, he's clearly drunk. So yeah, maybe you're right and he deserved a correction, but you're overreacting. I thought you'd have laughed it away. Oh, and maybe you should talk to Rosaline while you're at it.” Benvolio did not want to dwell on the fact that if Bassanio said what he said, it was probably because Gratiano said it. If _that_ was the case, a good half of the campus probably was hinting at it. Heaven knows what would happen if anything ever came up in front of Tybalt – or even Mercutio. Sure, Tybalt was the angry one, but Mercutio... And Benvolio was not stupid enough not to have noticed that anyone gossiping about Mercutio in Verona tended to shut up really fast. A bit too much.

While Benvolio was still grappling with his thoughts, Tybalt's eyes went from him to Rosaline, who was absent-mindedly putting things away. “She's fine.”

“You think so? You fight with her guest, throw her to the ground? Don't you think she'd be upset even in normal circumstances?”

“What do you mean normal circumstances?”

Oops. He couldn't possibly tell him about Romeo, or he'd have his own cousin's death on his conscience. “You're her cousin, you idiot. She likes you, that must make her all the more disappointed.”

“Well, maybe you're not so stupid – that is, for a Montague.” He left him there and went to Rosaline. Benvolio couldn't make out what they were saying, but he could see Rosaline smile, so everything must be fine.

He went to Jessica to thank her for the party, and asked her to wish good night to Rosaline for him. When he left, Rosaline and Tybalt were still talking. She seemed to notice him behind her cousin's shoulder, and he nodded. “See you soon”, he mouthed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghosts of Rosaline's childhood resurface. Benvolio does his best to help her - though he probably did not expect it to end up as it did. Features Papa Capulet in a dressing gown for comic relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of past abuse. All chapters are fairly independent, so you can just skip this one if you want to.

“ _Can you come, please???”_

Weird. It might have been nothing, but combined with the fact that he had not seen Rosaline that morning as usual, the absolute silence of the past couple of hours, and that she did not answer when he asked what was going on and _where_ exactly she wanted him to meet her; Benvolio got really worried.

He didn't want to call her either, because Pr. Yorick seemed quite strict and he did not want to put her in any trouble if she were in class after all. When he couldn't find her in the Faculty of Medicine's building, he started to look for Juliet instead. She was Rosa's cousin after all, but also Romeo's new girlfriend, so Benvolio knew she saw no disgrace in talking to Montagues. That much couldn't be said of Tybalt, the only other person he knew in Rosaline's family.

He finally found Juliet at a table in the library, and was about to walk up to her when he spotted Tybalt coming towards her from the other side of the room. Benvolio didn't really know what to do; he and Rosaline weren't exactly together, and though he'd have spoken freely to Juliet, he wasn't sure Tybalt would react positively to learning that Benvolio took interest in his cousin. Did he even know that Juliet was dating Romeo? Benvolio decided to wait in the next aisle for Tybalt to leave. While perusing the shelves, he overheard their conversation.

“Just leave her be,” Tybalt was telling a visibly worried Juliet. “She needs space, you've tried everything already, whatever you could say now would not help.”

“Still, I hate having to leave her alone like this. She can't go on locking herself up and just stop living every time this happens. Do we even know if it's true? Dad wouldn't tell me anything.”

“From what I gathered, the Prince lost track of him, so it's an eventuality, but there's no way to be sure.”

Benvolio wondered who they were talking about, but he must have done something dreadful if the Prince was keeping tabs on him. And what they'd said about Rosa...

“Don't you find it creepy?” Juliet went on. “She watching us even now that we're no longer in the city anymore...”

“I would agree with you, I don't need another Della Scala on my back. But if I get to stay the hell away from our uncle, I'm all for it!”

Their uncle? Benvolio knew they all lived at Juliet's father's and Rosaline never spoke of her parents. Benvolio knew her mother was dead, so he never broached the subject. Not that he knew her so very well. _Yet_ , he added to himself. And of course he'd heard the rumours, but Montagues and Capulets alike had long ago learned to dismiss those. If they were to be believed, Mercutio had fucked all but the horses in Verona. Including his own family, the Capulet parents, and a monk or two. Which was perfectly false, though Benvolio wouldn't have asked his friend to name (or even count) all the partners he had had. Besides, Montagues and Capulets had never been in the best of terms, and all he'd heard of their situation after Tybalt's parents and Rosa's mother had passed away was confused at best, and mostly contradictory. Yet what Juliet and Tybalt were saying made him fear the worst.

He all but ran to his car, not even stopping to apologise when he bumped into Prospero on the way out. He could still hear the librarian curse once he'd slammed the door behind him. Not that he didn't care, in fact he felt quite guilty; but he knew he could always apologise later.

He was so frantic he actually had to force himself to pause after he sat behind the wheel. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Crashing into a tree wouldn't help in any way, he told himself.

 

When he arrived at the Capulet mansion, Benvolio almost had to fight his way in. They actually let him through the gates without asking any question – he was alone and unarmed, after all – but then the butler – _of course_ , the Capulets would have a butler! - wouldn't let him in. Rosaline wasn't there, Rosaline wouldn't see anyone, He would not disturb her to ask, and who was he anyway? A Montague wouldn't be suffered to order around even a servant in Capulet's house. He could very well go back whence he came.

At first Benvolio was mad at the butler, but then he noticed his tired look, and the way he kept rubbing the nape of his neck. He must not have slept much, or he was stressed by the tense climate in the household, and was lashing out on the first possible victim. Ben held his hand up to appease him and, trying to keep his cool, he said: “Look, I know what's going on. I can help. Let me see her.”

The old man clearly understood what he was referring to, because he gestured him in after merely a second's pause, and showed him to another room. “That way, sir. She's in the Western garden.”

He thanked the man and followed his indications. He found Rosaline huddled up on a bench, her back at him. Since she didn't turn around when he approached, he guessed she was wearing headphones so he tapped her shoulder lightly. She shrieked and sprang up. Relief showed on her face the instant she saw it was him, but he hadn't missed the wretched terror she'd been in for a split second.

She wasn't crying, but her eyes were puffed, her fiery hair was all tangled, and she looked like she hadn't slept in days.

“I thought you were...”

“I know,” he said softly, and he went around the bench to take her in his arms. They stayed that way for a long time, silent. Benvolio didn't know what to say, wasn't sure his words would comfort her. He didn't want to let her go, either. She shivered at a gush of wind, and he realised how fragile she was, in spite of her tough looks. He _needed_ her to be happy. She was a precious thing, and her anything but happy was a crime. He told her just that, and she scoffed.

Eventually he sat on the bench and she curled up against him. After some time, he said: “You don't have to tell me anything. But if you want to, I'm here. I won't leave you, ok? And you can always call me! You had me worried, sending cryptic texts, then not answering.”

“I'm sorry.” She patted her vest's pockets. “I guess I forgot my phone upstairs. How did you know...?”

“I was looking for you, and I overheard your cousins...”

“Oh.”

“They weren't being indiscreet, don't worry. I just... I know enough that I could do the maths.”

She just put her head back onto his shoulder, staring off in the distance. He put an arm around her waist but respected her silence. After some time, they heard footsteps, and turned around to discover the butler waiting about, a few feet away, silent and wearing a blank expression.

“What is it, Sampson?”

“Your... your uncle will be back any time, miss. Your friend can't stay here.”

“He stays.” She turned away.

“Miss...”

Benvolio took her chin in his hand and gently turned her head to make her look at him. “Are you sure this is a good time?”

“What happened to 'I won't leave you'?”

“I'll stay if you want me to – but don't enrage your uncle on a whim.”

She looked about to scream at him, or maybe slap him, but instead she simply said, “Fine!” and got up.

Benvolio managed to grab her hand before she could storm off. “Rosa?”

She grumbled.

“I won't let you stay here alone _ad vitam aeternam_ , though.”

“I'm not leaving home till I'm sure he's not around, Ben. No way. I don't want to run into him!”

He rubbed circles on the top of her hand with his thumb in a soothing gesture. “Shhh, calm down. But staying where he'd be looking for you first, in the middle of the day when there's just...” he waved dismissively at the butler “Sampson... here to protect you...”

“Pardon me sir but—”

“Oh, and there's no need to call me 'sir'.”

The old man bowed his head down.

“See? Look, we've got almost the same schedule, I'll come and pick you up tomorrow.” He cut her off before she could protest: “It's on my way, anyway”, and she gave in. He feared for a moment that they'd be at odds, because she didn't usually let people order her around, but she just thanked him as she pressed him to leave before old Capulet could see him.

 

But Benvolio didn't manage to avoid Capulet very long. The next morning,when he rang the doorbell, he was expecting Sampson, since their classes started quite late. He assumed everyone would already have left; he was met instead by old Capulet, wearing a crimson dressing gown. The kind you only see in movies, and for some reason, it was not as scary as it should be. More like, hilarious. It took all his willpower not to check if the slippers matched.

“Good morning. Sir. I, hum, come to see Rosaline?”

“Sir me no sir, young man! You're a Montague, aren't you? Is that you, the worthless runt that stalks my niece?”

 _Oh, ok, note to self, tell Romeo to wait a bit before he unexpectedly shows up at Juliet's_. “No, sir, I'm his cousin, and nothing like him.”

“Good. Because otherwise—”

“Otherwise your niece is old enough to give him the shovel talk herself,” interrupted Rosa's voice from upstairs. “Don't scare my ride to Uni, uncle 'Dio!” She waved at Ben from the top of the stairs. “I'll be here in a minute!”

He tried not to stare at her because it simply wouldn't do in front of her uncle, but damn, she was lovely in her dark-blue kimono!

Capulet let him into the hall, and left him there after a few minutes' embarrassed silence. When Rosaline got down shortly after – fully dressed this time – there was an awkward moment as neither of them really knew how they were supposed to greet each other – but Rosaline finally crossed the distance between them to hug him. She then flew away to get her bag, but not before she pecked Benvolio on the lips, leaving him unable to move or articulate a thought. Which made Rosa laugh – “close your mouth, Ben, we are not codfish” – and that was even sweeter.

And indeed when he left her in front of the Faculty of Medicine building, she seemed perfectly happy, all thoughts of her father seemingly vanished.

 

He told her he'd wait for her, since he finished early that day; and so he was sitting on the hood of his car when he spotted her leaving the building; he climbed down to hold the door open for her. “My lady!”

“Afraid it'd attack me?” she asked, leaning on the door to face him.

“Just that you'd attack her!”

She just smiled and got into the car. But in the short moment it took him to go around the car and take his seat behind the wheel, she'd grown much more serious.

“Don't drive me home. Please?”

This took him by surprise. “Wh– hum... You... you want to come to my place for a bit?”

“Yeah – anywhere but home.”

By the time they reached his flat, she seemed to have gotten a hold on herself, though she hadn't said anything on the way. They studied for a bit, but soon, as neither could really concentrate, they ended up watching random programs on TV. They ordered pizzas, watched some more TV... It was getting late, and Benvolio didn't know how to ask without sounding too creepy. Rosa was talking quite cheerfully now, though she was careful to avoid any subject even remotely related to her current situation.

Soon, however, he had to get up to get the pizzas, and he thought it was a good occasion as any to ask whether her aunt and uncle would not be worried if she did not show up for dinner.

“Nah, they don't care.”

“Even in the present situation?”

She did not answer.

“You... want to stay here for the night? I could... lend you my room, take the couch, and...”

“That couch is perfect for watching TV, but a night on this and you'll be sore...”

“You don't want to go home.” It was not a question.”My room is yours if you want. It's your choice, but I really don't mind.”

“Fine,” she smiled. “But we're both responsible adults; I think we can share.”

He didn't know just how much she was implying – and maybe it was not exactly the best time to think about her that way – but he had no reason to refuse. Not that he wanted to.

“You should call Juliet. She could bring you a few things, and she'd be reassured. I don't know about your aunt and uncle but at least your cousins will be worried.”

 

Juliet popped in a bit later, though she barely entered the hallway before she was off again; she was visibly worried, just as Benvolio suspected, but also wanted to give some space to her cousin and did not want to intrude. She also mumbled something about an improvised meeting with Romeo, seeing as Rosa provided her with a good excuse to be away from home for a while.

Only a few hours later, when they were about to go to bed, did he start suspecting another motive to Juliet's shortened visit: Rosaline appeared into the living-room, visibly bothered, wearing only her t-shirt and underwear. He had to struggle to keep his eyes on her face.

“Can I ask you a service?”

“Hum, yes, sure, anything – what is it?”

“See, Juliet has this, hum, annoying habit of buying the weirdest or most embarrassing clothes for me.” She blushed. “Let's just say I'm not wearing what she chose me for pajamas anytime soon.”

“Oh.”

She laughed. “Yeah, ex-act-ly. So... Can I borrow you a tee?”

Juliet and her, she explained as she came back later, wearing the t-shirt he'd lent her, often showed each other clothes that they knew the other would never wear. Only at some point they started buying them as funny gifts, and had made a habit of it. They'd even tried to do the same with Tybalt, but he wasn't exactly finding it funny, and they'd stopped at the leather pants. Which was already an image Benvolio could have lived without.

Juliet probably thought it a good idea to embarrass her cousin by bringing her only lingerie to sleep in. Or it was a ploy to make them sleep with each other sooner than they'd have, which did not compliment Juliet's morals. Benvolio wondered if he should have felt insulted that she believed he'd jump on Rosa that way – but then she was with Romeo now, who was not exactly a great example of gentlemanly behaviour. It wasn't very nice to Rosaline either, considering her current situation and... Well, maybe Juliet considered it as good a distraction as any.

And it _was_ distracting, though probably not as Juliet had intended. Benvolio had trouble seeing Rosa in one of his t-shirts – and barely anything else – and even more trying not to think about the clothes Juliet had intended for her. Wishing her goodnight, sharing a bed with her; it was all so very awkward! They weren't really together – or were they? He had no clue what to make of their relationship, but he did not really mind, in the end. Except that now, he was trying his damnedest to stick to his side of the bed, to get over his discomfort and —

“Ben? You can breathe, you know, that won't keep me from sleeping,” came Rosa's drowsy voice – sarcastic even then – and somehow it worked wonders to make him relax. He could not find sleep, however, even though he tried letting himself be lulled by her slow breathing as she dozed off.

He could make up her features in the pale moonlight seeping through the curtains, but he soon decided it was creepy, as she'd probably remark if she woke up and saw him. He turned away. Minutes, maybe hours passed, until she completely stopped shifting on the mattress, and he fancied she was soundlessly sleeping at last, relieved of the stress of the day. Smiling, he felt asleep in turn.

 

~~~

She could not sleep, and Benvolio's careful breathing was not at fault. She just could not, not even with his reassuring presence, not though she knew no harm would come to her now – her fears she knew were groundless, but that only fed her discomfort and anger at herself.

If her father was in town – and then even if he were not – knowing as she did that her whole life she'd look over her shoulder, and cower in fear whenever he was rumoured near; she who prided herself on her strength, who had kept her head high through grief and pain, or as she watched, helpless, her cousin take a beating. She who had looked at her father through her tears and never turned her eyes away even as he beat her, now allowed him to rule over her life; and that made her physically sick, and ashamed beyond words.

Somehow sleep took her when she expected it less, somewhere between painful recollections. This was not the soothing, dreamless sleep Benvolio had wished for her, but a never-ending succession of faces, memories and wounds that still hurt when she woke up in a sweat.

She sat up and hugged her knees, trying to muffle her sobs so as not to wake Benvolio; but she must have cried out when she woke up, because soon she felt a hand on her shoulder – tried to hold back a reflex to shrug him away – and in the scant light of the moon he managed to tug her hair out of her face. “Shh, love, I'm here, you're safe, alright? It was just a bad dream, I won't let anything happen to you.”

She wanted to thank him, but couldn't find the words, as if she was paralysed, unable to articulate a thought – she could not get a hold of herself, still terrified from her dream, and ashamed as she knew that if was but a dream. She felt arms coil around her, could sense with what degree of gentleness he pulled her in his arms, afraid to harm her just as she was afraid of her own reactions. Yet she _knew_ he would never hurt her, Benvolio who had been so nice to her from the start, without asking for anything in return, even when she had been only his cousin's silly crush. Thinking of that distracted her, and she smiled through her tears, in fond recollection of the past few weeks with him.

“You can talk to me,” he said again, “if you need, if it can help you.”

And she wanted to – to rely on him, let him know everything he probably suspected already – she trusted him, and knew he would never use that against her; but at she same time she couldn't – couldn't find the right words, couldn't bear the thought of seeing pity in his eyes the next morning – that would happen no matter what, and she did not want him to see her like that, _ever_ , and she wanted to run and disappear and never—

A broken sob escaped her, and she was driven back from her thoughts by Benvolio's hand running through her hair, smoothing it gently; and it was all she could do to hide her face in the crook of his neck.

He whispered in her ear – as if he knew exactly what she was thinking: “I admire you, Rosaline, and the courage you must have to face this all over again as you do, whenever... this... happens... I will never think less of you for expressing yourself, there is no shame in that!”

So she told him everything – words stumbling out of her mouth before she could think them through and if she stopped she wasn't sure she could start again and if she tried to find the right words she would keep looking forever. She told him about her mother, and how she'd learnt of her passing; of Tybalt coming to live with them – Valentio had been old enough then to take care of himself, but not so that old Capulet would deem him fit to take care of his little brother. She told him of her father, and what memories she had of him before he started drinking; his way of drowning his sorrows in cheap wine and strong spirits, and how he'd taken to yell at them, at first still apologizing that it was merely his way to blow off steam – making them feel guilty that their presence reminded them so much of the precious wife he'd lost – until he started beating them; Tybalt first and most often, but she'd had her share too.

Benvolio did not interrupt her or ask questions, in no way was he inquisitive, but she knew she had all his attention from the way he sometimes squeezed her in his arms, or pressed her hands in his, always gentle, just enough to let her know he was there, never pressing.

When she finished telling him the anniversary of her mother's death – how they went to school on the morrow with barely concealed bruises on their faces and were sent to Rina's until Egidio Capulet could be contacted – the sun was creeping up behind the curtains.

Benvolio pulled away a bit, looking at her.

“Look at me”, he whispered when he saw her avert her eyes. “Don't ever feel ashamed for that part of your life. _He_ should be ashamed, not you – never you. You might be the bravest person I know, and what you've become in spite of all that, doesn't cease to amaze me. How you can still be so nice, kind and _trusting_ when you've been so wrongfully treated – I admire you. And I'll kick whoever criticize you if you don't kick them yourself! And I know you can't do anything against it when it's eating at you like that, but I want you to know I'll always, _always_ be here if you need me, whether to talk or just to... be here. Because you deserve that and so much more.”

And it was not pity she could see in his eyes, but love and pride.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which phones are a nuisance, and obviously, there's nothing like a discussion brought about by an awkward wake-up call to reestablish friendship.

It must have been early in the morning, when Rosaline was woken up by a phone ringing at the other end of the flat. It sounded like Benvolio's, but she couldn't be bothered. It was too far, too early, and if it were urgent, whoever it was would call back. Surely _she_ didn't have to get up to take it. She ignored the noise and fell asleep again – only to find herself shaken by the shoulder a few minutes later. Grumbling, she raised a hand to switch on the bedside lamp... and found herself face to face with Mercutio, who was blinking like an owl in broad daylight. She must have been the last person he expected to find there. She surely wasn't expecting him – he was supposed to be away until the next day at least. She used to come when Mercutio was not around, mostly because it still felt like she was walking a line could not see when he was here. Yet he didn't comment on it, didn't joke as he was wont to do – he just stared at her, and somehow it was worse. She wasn't sure, either, if it was hurt she could see in his eyes, or just a trick of the light.

Anyhow it was clear she wasn't the one he was looking for; so she gently shook her boyfriend to wake him up. Benvolio sat up in bed and looked at them with sleepy eyes full of concern. He worried for everything and everyone; and the sight of Mercutio, dishevelled and barely dressed, at his bedside, waking up his girlfriend, was definitely something he would worry about. But before he could ask anything, Mercutio handed him his phone.

“Your aunt. She called you half a dozen times, and when she couldn't reach you, she tried me. Your puppy of a cousin isn't in his bed, she can't find him, and she thinks you might know where he is. Or wants your comfort, no idea which.”

“Well, we all know where he is and that wouldn't comfort her much.”

Mercutio didn't seem to enjoy being woken up – but then who did? At least his tone was as sharp as always when he said: “Anyway. Here. Call her back before she dies of worry. I would hate having to go to a funeral instead of going back to sleep! I don't have any black suit!”

When Benvolio left the room to take the call, though, Mercutio didn't leave at once, but sat on the bed next to Rosaline. “I'm sorry, Rosa.” And he really looked contrite, which with Mercutio was rare enough that she would believe it. “This might not be the best place to tell you this, but since we're here – I should have supported you more when Romeo was after you – we were friends, after all, and I'm sorry we lost touch, it's on me and I kinda feel ashamed that I let this happen.”

She tried her most reassuring smile. “We still are, aren't we? Friends? I haven't been warned of the contrary. It's not because we don't talk as much as we did...”

Silence fell. She could hear Benvolio on the phone, in the living room, but couldn't make out the words. She could never be angry at Mercutio for long, even when they were children. He was always so joyful, and when he wanted to be forgiven he just had to make her laugh. True, he hadn't been very supportive with the whole Romeo business, but she always assumed he had troubles of his own. Not least of which was her own hot-tempered cousin. And now, she almost felt as if _she_ had betrayed him. She had to ask. 

“Do you...” She hesitated. “Do you wish you were here, in my place?” She wasn't sure what she'd say or do if he said yes.

“I don't,” he answered, almost too quickly. Then he seemed to think about it, conflicted emotions battling on his face. “I used to,” he added quietly. She'd never seen him so calm and serious. “I used to wish that. Well, I used to _be_ in that place. But we're just flatmates now, and that's fine by me. I'm rather fond of the friendship I have with him. And with you.”

Rosaline always thought there must have been a history between them, so it wasn't such a big surprise. Besides, she knew she could trust Benvolio – and Mercutio too, come to think of it. He might play the fool but he wouldn't hurt someone on purpose. Well, not her anyway. She just smiled at him; not knowing what to say, but happy that he still trusted her so. He went on, taking her hand in his: “But even if I did want that – I'm not sure I would take it from you. You two are the nicest people I know, you deserve to be happy.”

Benvolio came back before she could answer. He gave them a quizzical look, but was visibly tired and didn't bother asking.

“I told her Romeo was at a friend's and forgot his phone here.”

“But why did she check on him so early? It's what, 6am?”

“5. Don't ask. He'll have to sort this mess himself. I also sent him a text, just so he knows. You could have done all that yourself, by the way, Mercutio. Can we all go back to sleep now?” he asked as he slid back into bed. Benvolio might be one of the nicest people they knew, but he was also the grumpiest when abruptly awoken.

Mercutio pulled the face of a whiny child whose parents don't want him to sleep with them, and as he saw Rosaline laugh, he got up with a smile and went to the door. She called him back just as he was leaving.

“You deserve happiness too, Mercutio, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She couldn't make out his expression in the darkness, but she was almost sure he smiled, a sad smile, before he bowed – a complicated, mocking bow – and left.

She expected Benvolio to ask her what it was all about; but when she turned towards him, she saw he was already asleep. As she turned off the light and settled to do the same, she wished that one day, Mercutio could find someone who would make him as happy as Benvolio made her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to Rosaline turns into a tea party at the Capulets'.

Rosaline was sitting on her bed, chatting with Portia on Sycorax, when she heard a knock.

“ _Si_?”

Juliet opened the door, with — and _that_ was a surprise — Benvolio at her heels. Who looked understandably ill-at-ease. 

“He said he has to see you; I assumed...”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rosaline smiled.

She was doing her best not to run to him; whatever Juliet might suspect, she and Benvolio had agreed not to say anything. Just so they could have some peace, without Romeo on their back, or their families making a scandal. If anyone knew... Although Juliet must have her suspicions, or at least hopes, seeing as she had brought her the most ridiculous clothes, that first time Rosa stayed the night at Ben's.

And Juliet did not seem about to leave.

“Juliet?” she said, as nicely as she could. “Don't you have anything else to do?”

And of course Juliet was clever enough to take a hint, and tiptoed out of the room, practically shoving Benvolio inside before closing the door behind him.

Rosaline just took the time to say bye to Portia and close her laptop before she threw herself at him. They soon ended up sprawled on the bed.

“Whatever are you doing here?” she asked – but on second thoughts she did not let him answer, kissing him instead.

They broke the kiss only when they almost rolled over her computer, which she'd left on her bed in her hurry. They both laughed, but she suddenly felt a bit worried.

“What is it?” Benvolio asked as he shifted to sit next to her.

_Damn, always so perceptive._ “We should not... not here. My uncle might hear us and decide to barge in...”

He frowned. “I did not plan to do anything... improper here and there, if that's what you're worried about.” The way he looked for the word, and the overly dramatic manner in which he said it made her smile. Again, he was friend with Mercutio, so it was probably normal that some of the theatrics stuck. 

“I know.” She leaned closer until their foreheads touched. “So what made you come here?”

“Just wanted to see you.” He was slightly blushing, and that was the cutest thing ever. “I know we said... And I should not have come, but...”

“I know. Me too. Still, it's not such a big secret, if someone learns about it, well...” Except it was – or could very well be, considering the bunch of drama queens their relatives were. She shrugged, then snuggled closer. She could have stayed like that for hours, with his arms around her – she rarely ever felt more at peace than when they were together. She sometimes reflected that she was probably very silly, but he was probably the nicest person she would ever meet; she had all the right reasons to keep him to herself. Not to mention the scandal if their relationship came to light. She did not care for their uncles' silly catfights: they have to get over themselves. There was no way she would give Benvolio up for their satisfaction.

They stayed like that for a long time, nestled against each other, silently enjoying each other's presence. When she stirred at last, the light outside was starting to fade.

“Want something to drink?”

“Tea? If you have?”

She hesitated. She knew for a fact that he only drank loose leaf tea, and... “Teabags, for sure. I can't promise much else. Although... I think my aunt has a tea set and some real tea somewhere, for when her friends come over. I just don't know how to prepare it.”

“I could show you,” he offered.

He was clearly thrilled at the idea; though whether it was to get real tea instead of teabags, or to teach her something he was really passionate about, she could not say. Both, most probably. She smiled and led him by the hand to the kitchen.

It did not took her long to find the teapot and her aunt's stock of tea leaves. They were waiting for the water to boil – well, not exactly, he'd explained to her, because that would ruin the taste – when someone walked into the kitchen. She turned around, quickly letting go of Benvolio's hand. It was her aunt.

“ _Ciao, Zia!_ ”

Rosaline then introduced them, upon which her aunt turned towards Benvolio, “You can call me Barbara. You're a Montague, aren't you?”

“Yes, madam,” Benvolio answered.

She clearly saw his unease, because she took upon herself to reassure him. “It's alright, really. You look like a nice guy.” She turned to Rosaline. “And you wouldn't be the first in this house to go out with a Montague!”

Her curiosity was piqued. Did her aunt know about Juliet? Or was she implying... “Do you mean...”

But her aunt ignored her question: “You're forgetting the water. It'll boil, and then we'll have to wait.”

The quizzical look Rosaline gave her did nothing to it. Only when the tea was brewed and they were all seated in the living room – she and Benvolio carefully keeping to themselves – did her aunt broach the subject again.

“You kids know I'm not blind and I saw you hold hands earlier, right?”

As Rosaline was not sure what they should say, Barbara went on: “And I did say it's alright. I can't really judge you.”

“So that's what you meant, wasn't it? You were with a Montague, once, weren't you?”

Her aunt smiled. “why do you think Egidio hates them so much?”

“Well, I always assumed that was a business thing.”

She chuckled, this time. “Well, there's some of that, yes... And the fact that he fought with Ottavio over me, to start with.”

“Ottavio?” Rosaline asked.

“My uncle. Romeo's father.” Benvolio was laughing, by then.

“Are you mocking me, young man?”

“Hum, no, madam _._ Just... certain things make so much more sense now.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly doubtful. “If you say so. Mind you, only you men are so resentful! Roberta never held it against me! Also, I did tell you to call me by my name. “Madam”, really? Do I look so old?”

“Hum, no. B-but... You're... friends with my aunt?”

“Of course! We were having tea not a week ago!” She winked at them. “Just don't tell your uncles, we'd deny it anyway.”

“About that...” Rosaline ventured. “we'd like to... keep it quiet?”

“Of course, dear. Although, if it's any help, I don't think Egidio would have any objection to it. He does not really have a choice anyway,” she added. “If he bothers you, I'll make sure he stops.”

She put down her cup and got up. “Now if you don't mind, I have some work to do. It was nice to meet you, Benvolio. _Do_ take care of my niece, or you and I will have to have a talk.”

“ _Zia_...” Rosaline started to protest.

“Hush, honey.” Barbara kissed her on the brow. “I'm sure he doesn't mind and doesn't need the warning anyway, but you're never too sure.” With that, she was gone.

“The more you know...”

“Yeah... sorry about that, though.” She got up to bring the empty teapot in the kitchen.

“Why? She's very nice,” he remarked as he followed with the mugs.

“Even with the shovel talk and all?”

“Well, that's still better than early morning meetings with your uncle!” He laughed. “Still, that's one hell of a story, when you think about it. Our uncles are so dense, sometimes!”

“There's a lot of bloody politics in there, too, let's not forget.”

“True. Nothing we want to be mixed-up with, in any case.” He took her in his arms.

“At least that won't happen to us. Unless you're as silly as them, in which case you hid it very well so far.”

“Well thank you – I guess.”

“Can't say the same for your cousin, though.”

Benvolio took her a bit by surprise when he said, “If anything happened, Tybalt would probably kill him before he had time to hold a grudge.”

“And here we have the next generation of brainless guys.” She smiled. “I'm glad you're not one of them. Although, to be fair, Tybalt is very nice. He just doesn't like Romeo much. Wonder why...”

“He's not mean, he's just... careless. He doesn't see how what he's doing might hurt people. But Juliet has already had quite the effect on his behaviour, I think.”

“She's clever. That's a Capulet trait,” Rosaline bragged, sticking her tongue out.

“Is it?” he mocked, and kissed her before she could reply.

When he left the house, not long after, she found it hard not to smile stupidly. It did not help that her aunt nudged her a couple times at dinner, and cast her knowing glances. But it also felt good to know she had her approval.

 


End file.
